8:45pm

It’s 8:45pm. I know because my phone buzzes, reminding me to brush my teeth. Begin winding down, Michaela. Begin acting as if nothing else needs to be added to and crossed off today’s list, the one you’ve made as the minutes tick by, the one where every item has been assigned the three stars of high priority.

I do not listen.

Last Thursday, Kathy and I discussed church stuff on Zoom. She knows my kind too well. “Remember, you can’t do everything,” she said with her honest smile. “But I can try!” was my reply, eyes dancing with laughter and a pinch of determination.

It’s 8:45pm. I know because I’ve just begun writing an email that I’ll schedule for 7am so that the recipient doesn’t think I’m a workaholic, so that they wow at my early rise, so that my words don’t get buried under the 5 and 6am retail sale reminders, so that in case I wake up with a revision I have enough time to unschedule and fix my late night error.

This will take less time in the morning. Get to bed. Read a book. You want to read more, remember? Brush your teeth, wash you face, settle in and settle down.

It’s clear, this voice of gentle encouragement. But I know better. I know the relief I’ll feel when I add this email then cross it off. I know. I’ll sleep better. I know.

It’s 8:45pm. I know because words aren’t coming as swiftly and I don’t remember why I opened this app I’m in. I didn’t trip—intentional steps led me here. But I can’t recall coz

…words are slow.

It’s 11pm. I’m somewhere between disappointment and sleep.

Tomorrow. I’ll do more tomorrow.

Ps. Yes, I have a reminder on my phone to brush my teeth.

Photo by Maria Castilho

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